


This Is Your Racing Heart

by seizethelight



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck Lives, Fluff, Hormones, M/M, Mpreg, Parent/Child Incest, lots of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethelight/pseuds/seizethelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It barely feels like there’s anything different, minus the constant ache in Chuck’s lower back and the almost comical way he collapses into bed at nine every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Your Racing Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just your general, (ridiculously) fluffy, father-son mpreg fic. 
> 
> Because the Hansens.

Chuck doesn't do idle, has never flourished without projects or tasks to keep him busy. He's lived a soldier's life since before he was a Ranger, by virtue of Herc's choices. Being raised in a Dome, he adhered to schedules and regulations, and Chuck barely remembers days without alarms and checks, leaving the house in the morning to run free until his mom called him back for dinner. 

What Chuck’s not entirely clear on yet is how he is capable of piloting a Mark V, but he can’t roam freely around the Dome now that he’s knocked up. Herc’s like a bloody watchdog, guarding him the first few months, like Chuck’s going to break if he spends ten minutes out of Herc’s sight. No more climbing scaffolding to consult on specs, crossing the building a dozen times a day, hanging in the mechanic bay to shoot the shit with the crew. No, the most Chuck’s allowed to do these days is walk on the treadmill, maybe some light arm weights if he’s lucky, then it’s rest, eating - God, all the eating - and maybe an hour or so of wanting to crawl out of his skin, watching other people sparring in the kwoon.

He’s irritated and twitchy and just when Chuck thinks he might explode, Herc backs off. According to the books he devoured during his bedrest and the doctor, the first trimester is over, complications are less likely, and suddenly Chuck has a little more room to breathe. Herc goes back to his normal schedule, with strict instructions for Chuck to take it easy, but things get a little better. It barely feels like there’s anything different, minus the constant ache in Chuck’s lower back and the almost comical way he collapses into bed at nine every night. 

When the baby kicks for the first time, Herc isn't due back for lunch for a few hours. Normally Chuck is hesitant to admit he needs anything from Herc, because, Good God, he says he needs something once, Herc’s attached to his hip again. But this - it’s the first time it’s kicked hard enough that Chuck can see it, can feel it on the outside. He makes his way slowly to the Marshal's quarters and sees Herc is on a conference call, tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, alone in his office for once. He sees Chuck loitering in the doorway, beckons him in, but holds his finger to his lips after mouthing _sorry_ , rolls his eyes, taps his watch.

As Chuck just kind of stands there, he feels the flutter again. His hand automatically goes to his stomach and Herc catches the movement, motions him over with a snap of his wrist. There’s worry in his eyes, and Chuck can see Herc has to stop himself from dropping the phone, rushing over just in case something's wrong.

Chuck just shakes his head, walks over to the desk carefully. He picks Herc's hand up, lays it under his shirt on his belly and presses. As if on cue, there's a sharp kick, like a drop punt at the end of a match, right under Herc's hand.

His eyes widen, almost impossibly large, and Chuck has to stop himself from laughing because he has never seen that expression on Herc's face, not in the drift, not in person.

Herc just barks something into the phone before slamming it down, something Chuck thinks might translate to _we'll finish this later_ , and looks up, incredulously, at Chuck. 

“Pretty cool, right?”

“How long have you felt it?” Herc asks, and it’s obvious the old man still misses the drift, because he would have seen it, felt it himself, before Chuck ever had to find the words to tell him. Chuck can see Herc's wondering if it's something Chuck would keep from him.

'Today. Just...just now. I came right here.'

And that look on Herc’s face, like someone handed his father the world on a plate? That's worth dropping one into the breach, dying, and coming back all over again.

\--

Of course now that the baby’s everywhere, already a fighter, jabbing and kicking Chuck’s internal organs at every opportunity, he's on bloody lockdown again. After a few weeks, Chuck already feels like he's ready to climb the metal walls of their housing - or would, if Herc let him scale more than three stairs on his own. 

"Sure, you shoved me in front of giant sea monster aliens before I could drive, but now I can't walk to breakfast without a personal escort?" 

"You weren't...," Herc's hand waves in front of Chuck's abdomen, swollen now to the point that none of his pants fit. (NONE, he's had to beg Raleigh to help him alter some of his clothes - he has remarkable sewing skills for a bloke who piloted and hammered nails for a living - and don't think THAT wasn't a conversation Chuck's still cringing over.)

"Pregnant." Chuck supplies. "Can't say it? How do you think I got this way, old man?" 

It has the opposite effect he’s intending, because instead of shaming Herc into letting Chuck take the transport ATV for a spin, Herc just gets this predatory gleam in his eyes, raking them over Chuck's body, reaching out to pull him in close. 

"Not so old, I'm the one who did this." Herc’s hands run down Chuck's sides, linger over his hips, then meet over his belly, tracing small circles over the taut skin. Chuck can feel the baby shift, bump against the searching touch of Herc's fingers, almost like it can sense who's there. 

"See? Baby knows me already." Herc is suddenly on his knees, crouching in front of Chuck and talking to the bump his fingers are framing. 

"God, I hope so. Otherwise, we're really fucked." 

"Jesus, Chuck, watch your bloody language." He turns back to Chuck's belly. "Daddy didn't mean that, baby, listen to Papa instead." 

Seeing his father croon to his stomach is about the last thing Chuck ever imagined witnessing in his lifetime - and as someone who fought colossal ocean dragons in skyscraper-size robots, that's really putting it into perspective. As fucked up as the whole situation is, though, in the grand scheme of the world not ending, Chuck supposes there are far worse things that could have happened. His hand falls to rest on Herc's head, scrapes through the short hair, and Herc's arms slide around his body. 

"Love you, Chuck. You know that, right?" 

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and the fucking hormones pumping through Chuck’s body are absolutely the only reason they are prickling right now because, Jesus, this is not like him. Chuck doesn't sit on the couch all day, marathoning old tv shows from the States, eating everything in sight, weeping over a few simple words. 

"Didn't think I'd ever get a chance to tell you again, if I'm being honest here." He tilts his head back, chin grazing the swell of Chuck's stomach, and his eyes lock on Chuck's. "And now, this - it feels like another shot at something I probably never deserved in the first place. I want to do it right this time, for both of you - all of us. So indulge me a little, can you?" 

Maybe it's not just the hormones, then, because Chuck's not the only one misty-eyed and choked up. He coughs a little, tries to swallow the knot of emotion stuck in his throat. "Whatever, old man." 

It still means 'I love you, too,' even if it doesn't sound that way.

"Now will you please get me the fuck out of here, before I start asking Becket to teach me to knit or something? I'm so bored." 

When Herc stands up, looks reluctant, and he can SEE the excuse forming on Herc’s lips, Chuck slides in close, runs a hand over Herc's chest, voice dropping low. "Please?" Chuck looks up at Herc through his long lashes, a wicked smile curving on his lips. "Please, _Daddy_?"

Herc's fingers curl into Chuck's shoulder tightly, and Chuck can feel his resolve slipping, a degree at a time. "Keep that up, neither of us are leaving this room for the next day." 

Chuck shrugs, reaches around to rub at his lower back. "That works, too. Just need something to keep my mind off all this. " 

"Actually, that gives me an idea. Hold on." Herc turns Chuck around, presses his fingers into the knot in his back. Rotating them slowly, he works the kink from under Chuck's muscle, his touch firm and steady, and Chuck can't help the moan when the pressure finally gives, dissolving under Herc's hands. His mouth works down Chuck's neck, under his shirt collar, to suck a little mark into his shoulder as Herc’s fingers continue kneading around his spine. 

"Knocking me up isn't good enough for you, you have to mark me, too? Going to chain me to the bed next?" 

Chuck can feel Herc's smile against his back. " Barefoot and pregnant, chained to my bed? Isn't that a thought." His teeth nip a little and Chuck hisses through the spark of pain that mellows when Herc's tongue soothes it down. "No, this is just a reminder, my boy, so you remember where you belong." 

Chuck's been to hell, and it spit him back out, right where he started. Hickey or not, he's not likely to forget where - or to whom - he belongs. Still, he's never going to push Herc away from mouthing at his skin, so Chuck backs into his lips, baring his neck so Herc can move up, trace along his hairline with his tongue. It's good, and his hips move back against Herc instinctively. 

That's another thing no one told him about, in addition to sobbing like a baby over everything, Chuck wants to climb Herc like a fucking tree about twenty-three hours of the day.

In the midst of unabashedly grinding back against Herc's suddenly very interested cock, Chuck remembers he was about to suggest something before they were sidetracked. "Were you going to tell me something, old man?" 

Herc's hand slid around, down past the band of Chuck's pants, palm grasping around his dick. "Hmmm?" 

Thrusting into his grip, just enough friction to make it good, Chuck arches his back, tries to get more. He knows he's going to come embarrassingly fast, he's got the reaction time of a twelve year old these days. But with Herc's breath hot on his shoulder, his words encouraging and low in Chuck's ear, filthy and tender sweet at the same time, he circles Chuck tightly. Rubbing against his ass, he jerks Chuck off. 

Chuck really wants Herc to bend him over, work him open until he's begging for Herc's cock. But he also wants to come as soon as possible, and the way Herc's wrist twists on the down stroke combined with his teeth on Chuck's earlobe sends him off, shooting into Herc's palm, slick and wet and warm. Then Herc's other hand is rubbing circles on Chuck's back, helping him over to the bed, lying him down and coming back to wipe him down. 

The clucking over him like a mother hen is equal parts the most aggravating thing Chuck's ever endured and exactly what he needs in the moment. (Maybe the scales are tipped towards the latter, just a bit.) 

Herc's hand pushes the damp hair off Chuck's face, it's gotten too long and he hasn't had it cut in weeks. Tossing the flannel off into the basket in the corner of the room, Herc leaves for just a moment to pour a glass of water for Chuck. 

He's suddenly tired, bone-weary, and as good as getting up and running around the Dome sounded, all Chuck wants now is to sleep with a pillow between his knees, preferably with Herc curled around his back. 

"What about you?" Chuck asks when Herc drops a kiss on his forehead, only the slightest bit guilty that he hadn't lasted long enough to even contribute to Herc getting off. 

"No worries, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all." He looks down, back at Chuck, who can't suppress a snort into his pillowcase. "You laugh now, you're dealing with it later, when I get back."

"You can't stay?" Chuck tries not to pout, because he was really always more the brooding type. Snarling and taking to the gym to work out his frustration and disappointment was his MO, but lifting isn't on Chuck’s list of approved activities these days. 

"Sorry, love. Duty calls." Herc leans down, kisses Chuck slowly, thoroughly. "I'll be here with lunch, and maybe we can get back to this." 

"Mmm, promise?" Herc just rolls his eyes, but Chuck knows he's got him in the palm of his hand. 

"Course." He motions to the erection that hasn't quite subsided yet, just that half-hard state under his dress trousers that still makes Chuck's mouth water a little, exhaustion or not. "This is all your fault." 

"How does it feel, then? Knowing someone else is the root of all your discomfort. Blows, right?" 

"Blowing me is your job." Herc ushers Max into the bed with Chuck, gets the remote and the comm unit that links to his office, lays them on the bedside table. "I'll see you soon." 

Chuck watches him splash water onto his face, straighten his clothes. As Herc palms his keys and picks up a stack of files, Chuck calls to him. 

"Dad?" 

Herc turns by the door, that soft look crossing his face for just a moment. "Yeah?" 

"What were you going to tell me?" 

“Ah, right.” Herc shuffles through the manila folders, pulls a sheet of paper out, and crosses back to hand it to Chuck. "Mako's suggestion, really, clever girl. It's a yoga class, in the kwoon. We can get someone who can do the prenatal stuff, it’s not so different from the usual poses, she tells me. I -" Herc colors a little, rubs at the back of his neck and Chuck recognizes the motion as one of his own. "We thought it might be something you'd enjoy, get you out of here for a little while." 

Chuck skims the memo, feels another little flush of emotion at the carefully typed instructions. 

He folds it gently and blinks back the sting in his eyes, just nods at Herc before curling up again. "See you later, old man." 

The door closes behind Herc, but not before Chuck hears the quiet, "bye, son." 

The baby kicks hard, a series of jabs as Herc locks up, and Chuck winces, rubs at the tender spot on his stomach.

"Yeah, I know. I love him, too, kiddo."

**Author's Note:**

> -handwaved a bit on the science.  
> -this is my first in time playing in this kink.  
> -But, you know, Hansens. They make you do wild things. (Also, personal headcanon is that Herc is kind of a marshmallow when it comes to this situation. Also, Chuck sort of turned into an emotional mess with hormones. Hence the fluff/possible OOC actions.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
